The woman peeked from behind the book, "Didn't think so."
She then popped a finger into her mouth and moaned, "Mmm, I've had pureblood before, but never anything like this."
Verrine cringed as the other woman licked at her own hand as if she’d just remembered she, too, had sunk her claws into Verrine. Blood was still dripping down her arms and back and the thought made her slightly dizzy. She was, in fact, feeling quite fatigued, much more so than if she’d expelled twice as much energy normally, and it was all she could do to stay steady on her feet.
"We must thank you for going to all this trouble to bring the book back to its rightful owners."
"Give it back, strigori," Verrine could feel her knees going weak and she stumbled back.
"Do you really think you’re in any position to be making demands?" the pale-faced woman snorted, "Didn’t calculate what happens when you come up for air, did you? I bet you could really use all that blood about now."
Verrine glanced at the crimson that had pooled at her feet and finally lost balance, slipping down onto the ground. She’d never before felt so drained.
"Yes, that’s about right." The woman handed the book off to the other and sauntered up to Verrine. Her flames had dissipated and she steadied herself against the dirty ground, but couldn’t find the strength to even lift her arms in defense. Without a word, the woman lifted her talons and slashed into Verrine's chest.
Verrine choked on blood as it spurt out her mouth and stained the alleyway. She gasped for breath and clawed at the ground, but nothing eased the pain searing through her. Her eyes clouded with tears and fear ran through her mind. Sounds of the two's laughter faded into the night as she wondered, what would become of Sophie now?
***
Sophie eased the door open and slipped into the darkness of the apartment. Just as night had fallen she had reached her building and now only a pale beam of moonlight fell across the living room. The high backs of arm chairs and a sofa lay out before her and their tall, eerie shadows stretched along the floor. With a satisfied expression, she slid the tips of her fingers into her pocket. The torn page crinkled and the sound now filled her with a strange sense of pride; somehow she had run the gauntlet and had obtained some semblance of the information she wanted.
"You were up awfully early," Mona's voice whispered as she leaned around the arm of her chair and looked back to Sophie.
"Holy shit!" she jumped and pulled her hand from her pocket.
Mona peered at Sophie's figure clutching her chest then sat back into her chair, "Didn't mean to scare you."
She left the door in a hurry and came around to face Mona. The girl sat on her feet, a magazine in her lap, looking minute against the high back and overstuffed arms of the chair.
"So," Sophie began hesitantly in a whisper, wringing her hands, "Are Naomi and Grant up yet?"
"Yeah, gone actually. They just left," she replied shortly.
"Oh, crap," Sophie fell back onto the adjacent couch, "I didn't even see them in the lobby or anything."
Mona casually flipped a glossy page without really looking at it, "I told them you were still in bed. They didn't bother checking."
"Oh, thanks." She paused and watched Mona scan the page in the dark, "Don't you want to know where I was?"
"Not really."
"Well," she sniffed, "Your friends are waiting for you."
Mona peered up from under her brow slightly, "Are they?" she flipped another page more harshly.
"Aren't you going?"
Coldly, Mona spat out an answer, "No."
Sophie thought about the previous night's fight, "But your parents are gone."
"So?" Mona looked up finally, closing the magazine.
"Oh, I don't know," Sophie quickly recovered, "Danielle just seemed pretty upset."
"Heh," Mona stood, "If she needs me she knows where to find me. I'm going in my room." She moved to the kitchen then turned as Sophie sighed heavily, "What?"
Sophie shifted uncomfortably and tried to not make eye contact with her cousin, "I just kind of wanted to talk."
Mona didn’t answer, but also didn’t leave.
"You know, about last night." She was quiet for another long moment, examining the fibers of the sofa. "What happened in the alley."
Mona made a little noise in the back of her throat then sighed, "What, when you slipped and hit your head?"
Sophie looked up at her then, confused, "No. The men." No trace of recognition registered on Mona’s face. "And the bright light."
Mona rolled her eyes and diverted her gaze, "Man, you must have hit your head harder than I thought."
Bewildered, Sophie could only stare back at her. The girl absently picked at her nails and glanced up, but quickly looked away, "First you’re seeing things and now you’re imagining things. Weird." And with that she turned and disappeared down the hall.
Chapter 4
"Insect," the voice's owner spat at the ground, barely missing the being cowered in a heap. Coughing, he rolled to his back, blood spattering onto his chest. Fighting back would be useless now.
He stared up into the single hanging light in the tiny room. His head pulsed with some muffled rhythm far away. The enormous man who had brought him here nearly grazed the low ceiling and the walls were a dark concrete, stained with what he could only assume was blood. And his was adding to it.
The man kicked him in the side and he retched from the pain. His stomach split further and blood pooled beside him. He watched the deep red glitter under the light and it mesmerized him. For once the hunger didn't come at its sight, but a different feeling, a sense of awe at his own life and how fleeting it suddenly was.
"I'm just like you," he choked out, staring up at the shadowed figure. The light shone around the looming man as if he were a divine being, but having met plenty in his time, he knew the man was a far cry from one, "How can you do this to one of your own?"
From the shadows another emerged. "Just like us?" the feminine voice pacified him, "No." He heard the sound of heels coming closer then stop, "You're nothing like us."
He squinted, trying to make out the figure, but his vision blurred.
"I've been told you refuse to cooperate," her sultry tone filled his head, "And so you must be disposed of." She took a step closer, "That is, unless you tell me where they're keeping it."
"I don't know," he sputtered and blood trickled down his chin, "I don’t even know what you're talking about."
Her eyes flashed a magnificent golden color, enraged, and she flung her fist into the wall. It pierced the block deep and concrete crumbled onto the floor. The color in her eyes receded, and she lifted her arm into the light. It was unscathed.
"Of course you do," she purred, "You've been there, you've seen it. I can smell Hell on you." The words were like poison in her mouth.
She waited in silence for his reply, but he gave none. She crouched down to his level and hovered just above him. Finally, his eyes focused, and the light was just bright enough to make out her high, sharp features and dark eyes. When he realized it was her, he gathered his fleeting strength to push himself away, but his feet slid in his own blood and his body collapsed against the wall. His eyes were wide with fear and his breaths came in short gasps.
Her hand stretched toward him, and he locked his gaze onto her fingertips. They came so close to his face he could feel them, but they never touched his skin. She smirked, "It's a shame, really. Such a handsome specimen," he winced as her thumb pressed against the corner of his mouth, "It really is too bad you'll be leaving us."
He filled with anger, "Our race is dying at the hands of them and you kill me?"
"Them?" she narrowed her eyes, "The same ones you betrayed us for?"
"I only wanted..." his eyes felt heavy and his words dragged, “to live.”
She smiled then brought her thumb to her lips, "Of course you did." She flicked her tongue across the drop of blood and gazed into his eyes, "So, this is what a Pureblood tast
es like."
He felt weak and closed his eyes, "I would have helped you. All of you."
"Oh, I know," she whispered sarcastically, "But that doesn't matter now." She cracked each knuckle separately as she admired her claws.
"Please, Naomi, please don't!" he implored breathlessly.
She snickered and touched her lips to his face, his blood trickling into her mouth, "But how can I not when you taste so good?"
He incoherently mumbled again and forced his eyes open to look at her, "Oh, God, please."
Her fangs shined, dripping with crimson, her skin had become pasty and sallow, "You pray? You think God will save you?" she threw her head back and laughed. Her eyes glowed bright yellow, and the hunger paced like a caged beast inside them. She smiled, "God never saves anyone."
***
"Get that!" Mona's voice came from down the hall and Sophie jumped up at its demanding tone. A knock had sounded twice at the door, and she had been deliberating over answering it in the middle of the night. But Mona was more influential than she knew, as Sophie quickly pulled the apartment door open without even a look through the peephole.
The incessant light from the hall blinded her for a moment, but Michael's half-smile soon came into view. He leaned against the door jamb coolly with his hands in the pockets of dark jeans and a black turtleneck stretched tight over his masculine frame. His hair was somehow different, parted in the middle and feathered down to his neck. Sophie gnawed on her lip unconsciously.
"Can I come in?" he asked after a long moment of silence.
"Yeah," she squeaked moving to the side, then moved back and put her hand up to his chest, "I mean, no."
He looked confused.
She bit the inside of her mouth, "Naomi and Grant aren't home so, I don't think..."
"He can come in!" Mona shouted from her bedroom.
Michael smiled and Sophie returned it, stepping out of the way. He went to the couch and asked for a seat.
He was too polite, she thought, telling him to sit and planting herself beside him. She stared for a moment then reached over and turned on the light. He blinked and covered his face.
"Sorry," she moved in front of the lamp blocking its rays, "Better?"
"Much."
She recognized the cunning tone in his voice, but was not in the mood to fall for it, "So, what do you want?"
He chuckled, "What I want is to give this to Grant," he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, "He wanted an extra set of keys made to the club."
Sophie nodded, "Oh, you work for him?"
"Something like that," he swung a hand over the back of the couch.
She eyed his outstretched arm behind her, "Well he's not here. He's actually at the club...you know, since it’s open now and everything."
"Ah, of course. Well," he put the envelope on the coffee table, "what'd you do today?"
"Um," she glanced back to the hall but didn’t see Mona there, "I went to the library and," The memory of the strange woman suddenly popped into her head. She wondered if she should say, but decided against it, "That’s it."
Michael was silent a moment then shook his head, "That was a lie."
"No it wasn't! I really did!"
"No, not you," he laughed, "I knew that Grant was at Lamia, I just wanted to come here and see you."
Michael offered her a long, sincere look, and her heart fluttered a bit, "Really?"
He nodded, "I thought last night wasn't exactly your kind of thing, and I was hoping I could take you out to make up for it."
Sophie was frightened into silence. There was something that simultaneously pushed her out the door and pulled her back. Should she even want to go, she wondered. Was it appropriate given her situation? She took a deep breath, "But it's late. Nothing will be open."
"No, no, the best places are opening just now," he eyed her knowingly and gripped one of her hands, "And I can get into all of them."
She watched as he flipped her hand over and lightly traced the lines on her palm. It tickled, but only just. Then, she thought of Naomi's displeasure with Mona’s unadvised adventures. "I'd have to ask Naomi or Grant."
"She can go," Mona's voice carried into the room.
Sophie turned, surprised to see her leaning against the hallway, her arms crossed. "You already covered for me once," she pulled her hand away from Michael, embarrassed, "I couldn't ask you to again."
"I'm not going to," Mona narrowed her eyes, "I just know they won't care if you're out with Michael. They adore him."
Michael's toothy smile made them both laugh, but Mona stopped abruptly, "So, she's going," then she turned and disappeared back into her room.
***
"I can't help but think that Mona is sabotaging me."
"Now why would she do a thing like that?"
The two were headed back toward the apartment. It was very quiet with only the sounds of their footsteps filling the night. It had been a very pleasant evening and though it wasn’t enough to make Sophie completely forget her problems, Michael had proven himself to be a rather good listener. She found herself divulging almost everything, including seeing Eric and the strange encounter with the woman on the street.
"You mean besides the fact that she hates me?" Sophie didn't mean for the words to come out so harshly, but the night had loosened her tongue.
"Who could hate you?" Michael inched closer to her and slid his fingertips across hers, taking up her hand.
Her heart fluttered for a minute as he squeezed it gently, but she tried to keep calm, "She could. And does." She looked up at him, but he was watching the ground, "I think she's only nice to me sometimes because my aunt and uncle tell her to be."
"It's so strange to hear someone say that about Mona," he cocked his head, "She's always been very friendly with me."
"That's because she's in love with you," Sophie mumbled then stopped short, catching herself.
"What?" He laughed loudly and threw his head back, "Mona, in love with me? Now, that's funny."
"You don't think so?" Sophie asked coyly looking back up to him. He stared down at her this time.
He chuckled, "I'm sorry, it just seems so ridiculous."
She shrugged, "Well, if she is in love with you then at least I'd know why she’s been especially mean to me lately."
"Oh?" he pulled her close with a simple movement, "And why is that?"
"Uh," she was at a loss for words, wishing she could take her last utterance back. He raised an eyebrow, spurring her on. "Because," she attempted to stall hoping her brain would start working again. "Because you pay so much attention to me." The words came slowly but didn’t fail to sound conceited.
"Ah, I see," he nodded and began walking again, "You think she's jealous then?"
Sophie shrugged, "I don't know. It's probably a mix of things, like I’m a stranger in her house. Or maybe I'm just too boring for her."
"Too boring?" Michael seemed intrigued.
"I’m from some quiet little suburb miles away from here, and I’ve never done a crazy thing in my life. At least, I don’t remember," she added quietly, her memories from the time before the accident still hazy, "It’s embarrassing, really."
"That’s nothing to be embarrassed about." They had reached her building, but stopped outside in the entryway. He pulled her close to him so they were obscured by the shadows. In the darkness his eyes seemed to glow, "You're not jaded like the rest of us. You're still innocent." Sophie looked away, heat rising in her cheeks. "So innocent I can make you blush by doing this." Michael leaned in and brushed his lips against hers so lightly, she wasn't sure if he really had.
He pulled away, and she found herself eyes closed, face still tipped up toward him. Sophie popped her eyes open and saw him looking down on her with a devilish grin. She shivered, and he moved toward her again, this time fully pressing his lips on hers, and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped between their lips.
Michael’s hands were pressed into her back, holding h
er against him. He bit hungrily at her mouth and she returned the gesture even when his lips abandoned her mouth and grazed her cheek. Her being quivered at the feeling of his hand running through her hair and guiding her head away ever so gently so that his lips could fall on her neck, sending icy chills through her body.
And then pain, excruciating and blinding, filled up her senses, paralyzing her. It shot through her neck, lightening in her veins, and every muscle in her body cramped at once. Then she could feel her fingers moving, fumbling against his coat until she was able to latch on. If only she could push him away or even scream, she thought, but she was trapped between his hulking body and the wall. Sophie took in a deep breath, but suddenly his mouth was on hers again and she was silenced. The hand that had been so gentle moments ago was now wrapped up in her hair and holding her head fast against him. She could taste his mouth, his tongue against hers, and it was hot and metallic and made her stomach churn.
Then, in an instant, she went weak, the hands she had used to try and push him away were now reaching out to her attacker for support. Her knees were shaking and she thought she would collapse at any moment. Michael pulled his mouth from hers and slipped his arms around her.
Sophie remembered the elevator doors closing after he had stepped inside with her, and vaguely seeing her reflection there, her skin paler and crimson smudges around her mouth. Then she was in the hall, and finally at the door as Mona opened it. Her vision tunneled and she’d completely lost use of her limbs, but she could feel Michael carrying her and Mona’s voice, slightly panicked, asking him what happened.
He replied in a hushed tone as she felt herself be lowered onto a cushioned surface. Hands, smaller and softer than Michael’s, were on her face, moving her head and lifting her eyelids. She could see nothing and their voices sounded far off, but she focused on them with what little strength she had left.
"No, don’t," Mona was saying, "She told me...she told me not to bother her unless it was the real thing."
The Nephilim: Book One Page 5
